CHAPTER 36
INTERSEC REPORT FILES
surrounded Laura in stacks, dozens from the day of the
assassination attempt. As she read through each one, the
information became embedded in her memory, years of druidic
training enhancing her near-photographic memory. At first,
reviewing files had been a welcome relief from the fruitless
episode at the hotel the day before. After a while, though, the
process became mentally taxing. Coupled with her lack of sleep over
the recent days, fatigue was starting to take its toll.
She relaxed the mnemonic spell that boosted her
memory retention. The information she had absorbed jumbled in her
mind. In a day or two, it would settle into more coherent patterns
on its own, but she had keyed her thoughts to focus on the events
leading up to the finding of Sean Carr’s body in the attic. Report
after report of the first responders showed a consistent pattern.
Every person on the scene described Carr as dead on the floor upon
their arrival. She had found no one who had claimed they fired on
him nor anyone who mentioned they saw the strike. She surmised
either a report was missing or whoever had done the deed hadn’t
filed one.
She stared at the paperwork. Terryn’s sources
claimed Draigen remained a target, but nothing in the data
identified a source of the danger or the means. Even the time was
vague—sometime before she left the States. Gut instinct told Laura
the ideal time would be the reception, the only event left on
Draigen’s public calendar. Her logical reasoning, though, made the
reception seem too obvious. Someone planning an attack of this
magnitude would know security had been hardened considerably. No,
Laura thought, another assassination attempt would come from an
unexpected direction, and an internal threat was much more
likely.
She paused as a strong wave of body essence
filtered up the hall, then relaxed when she realized it was Genda.
Even with the ward dampening in the Guildhouse, a Danann fairy
stood out. She scanned her desk to confirm there was nothing she
didn’t want seen.
Genda stopped at the door. She wore a white dress
that shifted on subtle currents of essence, small images of orange
flowers shimmering on the fabric. “There you are, love. I saw that
you checked in. How is everything going?”
Laura glanced down at the folders. “Slow. I’m
trying to get a lead on the assassination attempt.”
A guilty look mixed with amusement came over Genda.
“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I found something
strange.”
She handed Laura a sheet of paper. The lists of
numbers were similar to series she had seen for bank-transaction
routing numbers. “What’s this?”
Genda stepped into the office, the guilt slipping
away to satisfaction. “It’s my nature to look at the financials of
everything. When I got the names of the missing Inverni, the first
thing I did was pull bank records. Those are tracking numbers for
Uma macGrath. I hope I didn’t overstep. Terryn used to provide me
with data and access. I assumed that I had the authority to do
this.”
Laura pursed her lips as she reviewed the numbers.
Two substantial lump sums had been deposited into macGrath’s
account—one before and one after the assassination attempt. “You’re
clear, Genda. We have pretty broad authority to move quickly on
things like this.”
Relief swept over her face. “Oh, good. I was afraid
we might not be able to use this.”
Laura considered the numbers. “I’m not surprised
she was paid. Sometimes in these situations, the perpetrator is
motivated purely for political reasons, but money isn’t far
behind.”
Genda laughed. “Oh, yes, definitely. Money’s behind
most things. That’s what makes it so fascinating.” She leaned
across Laura’s desk and pointed at a few lines of data near the top
of the list. “For instance, look at this.”
“The first payment went into her account a day
earlier, the second the day of the attempt,” Laura said.
Genda tapped the paper. “Exactly, love. But no
second payment for Carr. He died, obviously, but it’s interesting
macGrath was paid despite Draigen’s survival. Odd, no?”
“That’s a good point,” Laura said.
“I traced the wires. The payments came from an old
Inverni shadow account in Wales. I haven’t figured out whose it was
yet. There was some activity in the account prior to the payments,
likely a transfer from the Caymans. Have you ever been? The water
is amazing, but the clubs are filled with thugs in bad casual
wear.”
Laura shook her head. “No, not in years. Are you
suggesting someone in an Inverni clan hired macGrath to assassinate
Draigen?”
Genda sighed dramatically, her hands fluttering to
her sides. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m a numbers person.
What do you think it means?”
Laura let the paper fall to the desk. “It could be
the Alfreys. They’ve been rivals for centuries from what I
understand.”
Genda played her hands through her hair. “Oh, that
old feud. What a mess. Draigen should marry . . . What’s his
name—Simon? The son? Seal the breach, as they say.”
“He’s in prison, Genda. He was the one who
orchestrated the Archives attack.”
She tapped her temple. “Oh, right, right. I doubt
it was them, though. They love Draigen.” She glanced toward the
door and lowered her voice. “Don’t get me wrong, dear, but she’s
the real sapling from the tree, you know.”
Laura tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Genda glanced at the door again, her face avid.
“You’re too young to remember. Draigen’s the one who convinced her
father to challenge the High Queen, and her politics haven’t
changed much. It’s why the Inverni can’t get investors like the
rest of the Celtic fey can. Too uncertain politically.” She shook
her head in memory. “What a dashing man Aubry macCullen was. Very
astute financially, too. I would have risked a scandal for a night
with him, let me tell you.”
“Genda!”
She laughed, high and musical. “Oh, come now,
Mariel. Clan rivalries are one thing. Romance is another.”
Amused, Laura shook her head. “I’ll keep that in
mind.”
“Anyway, my money’s on this whole assassination
thing being internal politics. Draigen will probably find a way to
blame the High Queen, though.”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like Rhys
talking.”
She shrugged. “Another brilliant man. Another man
I’d”—she laughed self-consciously—“oh, never mind. So, what’s the
next step with this information?”
“Can you keep trying to track the original source
of funds?” Laura asked.
Genda nodded. “Of course. Absolutely. Shall we
inform the macCullens?”
“No!” Laura said. She took a deep breath. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out so loudly. The Inverni
Guardians are on edge as it is with the would-be assassin being one
of their own people. Let’s wait for confirmed information before we
give them more to be paranoid about.”
Genda nodded vigorously as she moved toward the
door. “As you say, then. I’ll get right on it.”
“Before you go, Genda, I’d like to recommend
InterSec provide security for Cress.”
She paused in surprise. “The leanansidhe? Are you serious?”
Laura spread her hands. “She’s one of our own,
Genda, regardless. The Guild is not the best security for her under
the circumstances. You have to keep in mind our own morale. If we
don’t protect her, it’s going to cause anxiety for every InterSec
agent undercover.”
Genda frowned. “Surely they don’t want to be seen
as supporting her?”
“Not her, per se. The organization.” Laura
hesitated, steeling herself to speak. “If you end up more than
acting director, Genda, internal support from rank and file will be
invaluable.”
As the thought settled in her mind, Genda’s face
relaxed. “Interesting. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Feigning indifference, Laura shrugged. “Think about
it, then.”
Genda winked. “I will.”
Laura took a deep breath. The idea that Terryn
could lose his position made her almost feel physically ill. That
Genda—with no field experience—might replace him made it worse.
That she had encouraged that thinking made it awful.
Her phone chirped as soon as Genda left, and Laura
checked the text message. Terryn wanted to meet with her and
Sinclair later that night at the Guildhouse. She stared at the
files. She didn’t think the Guildhouse was a good location under
the circumstances. She texted Terryn and told him she’d send him a
more secure location. Someone in the Inverni entourage wanted
Draigen dead. It was too obvious to consider anything else anymore.
She was afraid of where it would lead. And what Terryn would do
about it.